


Build An Altar For Me Here

by SinItToWinIt



Series: Let Not Mercy Forsake You [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Coersion, Dark!Roy, Ed is thirteen, I mean just full on rape, Insensitive use of religious materials, Kind of grooming of a minor, M/M, Manipulation, Misuse of altars, Priest Abuse, Problematic AU, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinItToWinIt/pseuds/SinItToWinIt
Summary: “I want you to trust me tonight, Edward.” Roy runs his hands down Ed’s body again, memorizing the smooth warmth of the skin beneath his hands. It’s a shame he doesn’t have the vision to take all of him in in the dim candle light, but Ed is a vision himself in the orange glow of the flame.





	Build An Altar For Me Here

**Author's Note:**

> Second and probably last installment in my one way ticket to hell. Mind the warnings and the tags, thanks.

The church is long-empty and dark by the time Edward slinks in, just as the array on the bell tower activates. A series of nine, nearly unbearably loud clangs serenade Ed’s short, determined strides down the aisle towards where Roy is waiting for him behind the altar, and the sound reverberates out and quiets as Ed comes to a halt just a few feet away from him.

 Roy isn’t sure what he tells his precious brother about his late-night wanderings, but he’s certain, at least, that he hasn’t told him the truth.

“Edward,” Roy purrs, pitching his voice down in the quiet of the church. “I understand it’s your birthday.”

Ed’s head shoots up in surprise. “Uh. Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Thirteen,” Roy says, ignoring Ed’s question; he knows everything there is to know about Edward Elric. “A fine age. Not a child any longer.”

Ed’s shoulders ripple in something like a shrug. “I guess.”

“Now, now, none of that. I think we ought to do something special to celebrate. Something to mark the occasion.”

Ed’s shoulders tense, but when Roy puts out his hand to beckon him closer, he comes. “I don’t really care about birthdays. It’s not a big deal or anythin’.”

“Nonsense.” Deftly, Roy pushes the ragged coat off of Ed’s shoulders and to the floor where it belongs. The shirt beneath it isn’t in much better shape, but it’s a touch too small and clings to his small body in the most delightful way. “Strip.”

The directness of the order catches Ed off guard, as does, Roy suspects, the nature of it. He’s had Ed in every configuration imaginable between his mouth and his hand in the few weeks since they’d started this, but not once has he ever had Ed completely bare and at his mercy. “All of it? Right here?” Ed’s eyes are a touch wide, just a little bit of fear leaking into the corner of his eyes. “What if someone comes in?”

“No one will be coming in.” Roy presses his fingers under the hem of Ed’s shirt and tugs. “I won’t ask you again.”

It’s cold in the church, and Roy would almost be able to pity him if he weren’t so beautiful. His skin is smooth and tan, unmarked by age or wear except for the hideous scars that crisscross down his right arm and the ring of mangled tissue at the edge of his prosthetic leg.

It’s the first time Roy has ever seen it, and it isn’t as bad as the horror he had been imagining. It isn’t automail, but it’s functional and smooth, all clean lines and metal and wood. Roy had feared it would take away from the boy’s beauty, but in a way, it actually adds to it, underlining his hopelessness and the raw, brutal hand life has dealt him, reinforcing the brokenness that drew Roy to him in the first place.

Roy takes his time taking Ed in. He’s shivering in the cold and bright red with embarrassment but he doesn’t flinch, not even when Roy reaches out to slide his hand down the expanse of his narrow chest, letting it come to rest against his ribs. Ed’s lips are parted, eyes still wide, and he’s still beautifully flushed, looking up at Roy with an emotion he doesn’t quite know how to place and, truth be told, he doesn’t quite care to try.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before, Edward?”

Ed’s reaction is shocking in its swiftness. He jerks back in shock, trying to pull out of Roy’s hold, but Roy tightens a hand in the back of Ed’s braided hair and curls his fingers into the flesh over his ribs to hold him in place. “You’ve taken my cock in your mouth,” Roy reminds him, tightening the fingers in Ed’s hair and forcing his head back until he grimaces in pain. “What’s that compared to a little kiss?”

“Kissing’s different,” Ed grinds out, even as little tears are beginning to form in the corners of his eyes from the sting of Roy’s grip in his hair. “It’s s’posed to m-mean something.”

“Hasn’t anything we’ve done meant anything to you? I confess, I’m disappointed.”

Ed goes quiet for a moment and Roy takes the opportunity to close the distance between them and claim Ed’s lips in a biting kiss. Ed resists, or tries to, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing and Roy takes advantage of that inexperience, scraping his teeth against his lip and pressing into his mouth.

Finally, Ed gives in, and the sweet satisfaction only adds to the taste of him on Roy’s tongue.

His hand stays firmly tangled in Ed’s hair but he shifts the hand on his ribs down to his hip in order to begin steering him backwards until he’s pressed against the cold stone of the altar. The change in temperature draws a gasp from Ed and he breaks out of the kiss and blinks up at Roy in confusion.

Roy untangles his fingers from Ed’s hair and brings his hand around to cup his chin, swiping the pad of his thumb across Ed’s swollen bottom lip. “That wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

Ed’s glare is fierce but he shakes his head regardless and Roy strokes his fingers gently through Ed’s bangs as he pushes them back out of his face in reward for his acquiescence.

“I want you to trust me tonight, Edward.” Roy runs his hands down Ed’s body again, memorizing the smooth warmth of the skin beneath his hands. It’s a shame he doesn’t have the vision to take all of him in in the dim candle light, but Ed is a vision himself in the orange glow of the flame.

Roy slides a hand down to cup Ed’s small, soft cock and Ed startles and gasps as Roy begins massaging it to hardness. It’s a rare thing, and an indulgence Roy hasn’t allowed himself too often lest he spoil Ed too much and derail all the work he’s done to keep him docile, but it is his birthday after all, and they both deserve a treat.

Ed’s hand is pressed against his mouth to muffle the soft whines and whimpers that escape him while Roy works him into a frenzy, and Roy would punish him for the theft of the sound if he didn’t know he’d be getting much, much more of it soon. Ed, perhaps, thinks this is the celebration that Roy had in mind, but any thoughts of that nature must flee as soon as Roy deems him hard enough and drops his hand. Ed doesn’t hide the whimper this time, and his little hips rock forward of their own accord to meet the empty air, seeking out more friction.

“Don’t you worry, darling, I’m going to take care of you,” Roy murmurs, stroking a soothing hand over Ed’s hip.

“Take care of me how?” Despite his current state, there’s an undertone of fury in Ed’s voice, and Roy finds a quiet pleasure in it, in knowing that no matter how thoroughly he breaks Ed down, some of that heat will always burn in him.

“The way that men take care of each other.” Roy turns Ed in his hold and presses him down face first against the altar. Ed has to rise to his tiptoes to accommodate the height of the altar, and even though he’s struggling against Roy’s grip, the metal of his prosthetic clanging against the stone, the height advantage and a firm hand against the back of his neck work in Roy’s favor and he manages to pin Ed easily. He makes a pretty picture bent over the altar like a wanton, pert, round ass on display and legs spread wide to keep his balance. Roy takes a moment to take it in, and Ed decides, wisely, to stop struggling. Roy knows this won’t be the end of it, not by a long shot, but it’s the fighting that makes the end result all the sweeter.

“Is this what you meant by celebrate, you sick fucking bastard?  You’re just gonna rape me?”

“I’d hardly call it that,” Roy says, keeping his hand firmly against the back of Ed’s neck while he works himself free of his trousers with the other. “You were aching for me to finish you off just a few moments ago. There’s no use pretending you aren’t shameless, Edward. False modesty doesn’t suit you.”

“ _Fuck_ you.”

Roy clicks his tongue and reaches for the small bottle of anointing oil on the edge of the altar. “That’s a tragically poor choice of words.”

He uncaps the bottle and begins to slick his fingers, and Ed must have some vague idea of what he’s doing because he begins struggling in earnest but Roy has him pressed hard against the edge of the altar and the hand on the back of his neck is firm and unyielding.

“Isn’t it bad enough you make me s-suck you off and touch you? All I did was take a handful of coins to feed my little brother, I don’t d-deserve any of this! You’re sick in the fucking head! Why are you _doing_ this?” Ed’s pleas grow more frantic as Roy begins to rub his slick fingers against the pucker of Ed’s ass, and Roy thinks he might even be crying. It’s a pity that he doesn’t get to see his face for this, a pity he doesn’t get to watch the last shred of innocence he possesses break in his eyes when he slides into him, but the logistics are too complex and Roy is willing to sacrifice a little for the sake of claiming Ed with as little trouble as possible.

His pleas, of course, fall across deaf ears and Roy presses a finger into Ed without so much as a warning. Ed cries out and tries to move away from the intrusion, and Roy almost pities him but doesn’t relent, curling his finger inside of him to work him open enough to at least accommodate another finger.

He’s tight, and the more he struggles the tighter he gets so the second finger is a bit more challenging but Roy manages all the same. Ed is making the most inhuman noises as he stretches him, still struggling against his hold but growing weaker by the moment, and when Roy curls his fingers against his prostate, Ed screams and arches his back, all thoughts of struggle momentarily wiped out.

Roy takes advantage of this and teases against that little spot for a moment before drawing away to dribble more oil over his fingers and go in with a third, spreading Ed as thoroughly as he can manage given the smallness of his young body. It’s the best he can do, and it certainly won’t be comfortable for Ed, but he’s less concerned with that than he is about how that tight, slick heat is going to feel wrapped around his cock and when he draws away, he takes a moment to steady himself before slicking himself with the oil; it wouldn’t do to come prematurely, and he’s hard enough just from the pitch of Ed’s cries that the risk is real.

He composes himself enough to apply the oil and to guide himself to Ed’s entrance, and he takes a breath and prepares for a renewed series of frantic struggles as he begins to press inside. It’s nearly too tight, and it’s a wonder he fits at all. Ed’s crying in earnest now, both from pain and from pure anguish, and Roy is nearly trembling with the effort of keeping him pinned as he presses inside, little by little, until he’s completely seated inside of him.

Ed’s ass is like a vice grip, and every violent shift of his hips as he fights to claw away from him sends a ripple of pleasure down his spine. He could probably come just from this, without even having to move a muscle, and although the idea of such a leisurely encounter is certainly a thrilling one, he has plans for Ed that will involve a little bit more effort on his part.

He leans down, covering Ed’s back with his own body, using his weight to keep him still. “The harder you struggle, the more this is going to hurt you. You need to relax.”

Ed is likely beyond speech and he just whines, high and loud, fingers still scrabbling for purchase against the cool, smooth stone of the altar. He’s miserable, and Roy can’t imagine the amount of pain he must be in if the vice-like grip around his cock is any indication.

They’re never going to get anywhere this way, so Roy begins to work his hand under Ed’s trembling body to wrap around his cock. Roy isn’t anything like surprised to find that he’s gone completely soft, but he’s young and his earlier desperation is still hidden somewhere under all this misery and his cock jumps in Roy’s hand as he begins to stroke it.

Little by little, Ed begins to relax and the fervor of his attempts to escape dies down to a more manageable level. He’s still impossibly tight around him but manageably so, and Roy begins to very, very carefully rock his hips. Ed’s resulting whimper is lost in the volume of Roy’s own deep moan, and there’s barely anything holding him together when he starts to move in earnest, tightening a hand in Ed’s disheveled braid and snapping his hips in firm, well-aimed thrusts that change the tune of Ed’s whining from agonized to desperate.

Roy’s getting a little desperate himself and he allows his control to slip. He fucks Ed hard and relentlessly, pushing him further and further over the altar until his feet completely separate from the ground and he’s completely lost all leverage, completely at Roy’s mercy, and mercy has never been anything like Roy’s strong suit.

One last jab into Ed’s prostate paired with a firm thumb swiping against the tip of his cock send him over the edge with a cry that echoes through the nave, and the rhythmic clenching of his body around Roy as he comes sends Roy over just moments later and he pushes into Ed one last time and comes.

He wants to collapse, but he manages to hold together the last vestiges of his strength to pull out of Ed, which draws another raw little cry from the boy’s tired throat, and tucks himself back in his trousers.

He takes a step back to just admire the picture Ed makes there splayed across the altar, his golden skin bright in contrast to the dark stone beneath him, his hair a wispy, tangled halo around his head, his body sweat-slicked and flushed, and a slow ooze of Roy’s come dripping down his thigh. He’s the closest thing to heaven Roy will ever see, a fallen angel crumpled against the altar of the priest who clipped his wings.

Roy lets him lay there for a moment to recover himself and begins collecting the discarded clothes from the floor where Ed left them. Ed hasn’t moved at all by the time he turns back around, and Roy thinks it’s possible he may well have truly broken him.

“Edward,” he says gently, but still manages to tint a bit of command into his tone anyway. “Get up.”

Ed startles at the sound of his name and very, very slowly begins to lift himself up and slide down off of the altar. He moves like he’s ancient, like an ache has settled into him bone-deep and every movement is agony, but he manages to slide down and turn to face Roy, but he won’t make eye contact.

His eyes are red and his cheeks are blotchy and tear stained. His hair looks even worse from the front and, if his nakedness and the come smeared across his stomach didn’t already give it away, it would have been clear to anyone who saw him what had just transpired.

“Come here,” Roy urges softly, and Ed comes to him nearly automatically. “You were wonderful,” he says, catching Ed’s shoulders and turning him gently so that he can work the tie off of the end of Ed’s hair. He combs his fingers through it carefully, working out the snags and tangles until it’s liquid gold against his back again, and Ed’s leaning into his touch unconsciously to seek out any shreds of comfort he can find in the wake of the horror Roy has just enacted on him.

Deftly, Roy re-braids his hair and smoothes his hand against his head one last time before turning him back to face him. “You were wonderful,” he repeats. “Absolutely exquisite. You were so good for me, Edward.”

Ed’s eyes flick to his own for just a brief moment, and Roy can see that his praise has hit the mark he intended.

“Get dressed,” Roy urges, passing off the little bundle of clothes to Ed who makes very quick work of them, as if he wants to hide as much of himself as possible from Roy’s prying eyes even though Roy has already seen all of him there is to see. “Go home to your brother. I think you still have enough time left to celebrate properly now that you and I have had our fun.” Ed goes to bolt but Roy stops him with a hand on his wrist. Ed turns on him with that trademark fury but before he gets a chance to curse him again, Roy catches him in a gentle kiss.

Ed’s shocked into stillness, and his eyes are glazed and glassy when Roy pulls away, confusion clear and sharp across his features.

“Run along now,” Roy murmurs, and Ed doesn’t need to be told again. He doesn’t run, but he walks as quickly as his mismatched legs will take him, and the slam of the atrium door echoes through the church when he leaves.

Roy hazards a glance at the altar. It’s as filthy as he imagined it would be, and will need quite a thorough cleaning before morning mass, but Roy’s done enough work for one night. Sex always wears him down, and he’s too tired to even think of cleaning it tonight. There will be plenty of time in the morning before the drones of believers gather in the pews and Roy will do a much more efficient job after a bit of rest.

Perhaps, he thinks, next time he’ll fuck Edward in his bed.


End file.
